


When Shrubbery Attacks

by Teaotter



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We can call it Sweet Pea."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Shrubbery Attacks

"Gunn."

"I got it."

It was another brilliant Los Angeles afternoon, sun burning down through a haze thick enough to hide all but the vaguest shadow of the mountains in the distance. Wesley had to wonder if it was the general lack of oxygen which had made his companion so testy, or if it really had been concern for his truck. Gunn had stalked in and out of the office all morning, muttering darkly about hesitations and odd noises and getting automotive grease on the paperwork until Cordelia told him to wash his hands or just stay outside with his baby.

He'd chosen to stay outside.

It wasn't until after Cordelia had gone to lunch that Wesley had come out into the blinding sun to look at the ailing vehicle. Gunn had one of their sword-polishing cloths dangling from one belt loop, liberally smeared with grease. His head was bent under the raised hood of the truck, his long arms reaching far down into the engine compartment.

Wesley tried again to get the other man's attention. "I believe your trouble may be located a little further back."

"Oh, you do?" Gunn didn't look up at him. "You ever change the oil on that bike of yours? Spark plugs? You even know what a vacuum hose looks like?"

"Not in the slightest. But I don't think that --"

"-- Then let me handle this. I've been taking care of my baby since before you'd even seen this coast."

"Of course." He glanced again at the back of Gunn's truck. "You _are_ the auto expert."

"That's what I'm saying."

"You know your truck like the back of your hand."

"Exactly."

"Then perhaps you could tell me --" Wesley began, ever so politely.

He was answered by a grunt from under the hood

"When exactly did you plant the tree in your tail pipe?"

"Say what?" Gunn jerked upright, barely missing a nasty crack on the head from the hood as he glared back at Wesley.

Who smirked and waved toward the sapling apparently wedged into the exhaust pipe of the truck.

"What the hell?"

"I believe it's a jacaranda." He nodded seriously. Wesley wasn't sure how Gunn could have missed seeing the little tree, which extended at least two feet over the bed of the truck. But he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to rub it in a little. "Yes. Quite."

He watched Gunn grab the tree and pull. It didn't move. The other man tugged again, then crouched down to look under the bumper.

"Wes? Come see this." He pointed to the underside of the tail pipe, where one of the tree roots had punctured the metal when it was shoved into the exhaust.

Except that the root wrapped out that hole and back _in_ another. While they were watching.

"Now, I'm no tree expert, but don't they usually grow in dirt?" Gunn asked, backing off.

"And not quite so quickly."

Wesley joined him on the sidewalk, absent-mindedly dusting off the knees of his slacks.

"So what's up with this one, and how do we get it out of my truck?"

"I'm not sure --" The sound of screeching metal snapped Wesley's attention back to the sapling. Was it _shifting_? "No, I'm quite sure --"

With a loud shriek, the tree ripped itself loose from Gunn's truck and lurched toward them, dragging part of the tail pipe behind it.

"-- that won't be a problem."

**********

"It's so cute," Cordelia proclaimed, peering through the fronds of the potted geranium at the tiny fuzzy creature clinging to its stem. Its baleful orange eyes blinked back at her.

"It's a demon." Gunn glanced up from bandaging the cuts on his arms inflicted by the whipping branches of the jacaranda.

"Technically, it's a supernatural creature, not a demon," Wesley corrected absently. Most of his attention was fixed on the remains of his right shoe, shredded almost completely by the grass-blades' attack.

Once the other plants had become animated – and aggressive -- it hadn't been difficult to deduce the dendura's likely presence in the bed of Gunn's truck. It had taken longer to find a suitably mobile planter to coax the tiny creature into while dodging the vegetative frenzy, but giving it a new home had calmed it enough for the shrubbery to stop its attack.

"It tried to kill us. With a tree." Gunn glared at the flower pot.

"It was scared. Weren't you, cutie-pie?"

"You _did_ try to uproot its new tree fairly forcefully." Wesley decided that his shoes were unsalvageable and tossed them into the trash can by his desk. He took an identical pair from his box of spares and began lacing them on.

"From my _truck_."

"We can call it Sweet Pea," Cordelia went on blithely.

"No. I really don't think we can. We can't." Gunn threw a desperate look at Wesley behind Cordy's back. "We can't keep it."

Wesley took pity on him. "No, not really. They grow to be fairly large."

"How large?"

"I believe the largest recorded was seventeen feet long."

"Seventeen?" Cordelia looked at him to make sure he was serious, then backed away from the planter. "Nothing is seventeen feet of cute. Sorry, Sweet Pea."

"Honestly, I'm more concerned about where you might have acquired it, Gunn. They seldom leave their nesting site for anything short of a major calamity."

"Calamity, you say? Like what?"

"Fire, flood, demonic attack..."

"What about bulldozers?"

"_I'd_ call that a demon attack." Cordelia sat on the edge of the desk. "What about them?"

"You remember the big house across from the Winchell's on Monaco? Big garden? They were tearing down the house this morning when I went by."

"Good thing for them the little guy's already gone. Otherwise, it'd be Attack of the Killer Tomatoes all over again. And that was _not_ a good movie."

Wesley was already reaching for his keys. "They live in flocks of twelve or more. 'Sweet Pea' was hardly the only one there."

"Twelve?"

"Or more."

Gunn's reached for his ax, then cocked his head. "Seventeen feet."

"The average is only eight," Wesley reminded him.

"I'm bringing the flame-thrower."

*************

In the end, they left the flame-thrower with Cordelia and took Wesley's motorcycle to the construction site. A crowd had gathered across the street, gawking at the angry arboria defending the denduras' nest. From the street, it looked as though the grounds of the entire house had been overrun by a small jungle, twitching and shaking as if in a high wind and reaching menacingly through the chain-link construction fence.

The plan hadn't included the two of them actually entering the fray. Of course, the plan hadn't included rescuing two of the construction workers from the jungle, either.

"They should be easy to spot. Denduras generally prefer to frighten humans into leaving the area."

"Wes." Gunn paused with him just beyond the reach of the vine tips waving madly through the construction fence. They both peered through the shifting greenery, hoping for a glimpse of the trapped workers. "Is that bush driving a bulldozer?"

"It's a bougainvillea, Gunn, not a bush. And -- watch the left --"

Gunn hacked off a chunk of vine with a smooth swing of his ax. "Yeah."

"And that's a cat, not a bulldozer."

Gunn laughed. "You had toy trucks as a child."

"Tonka was not unknown to me." A shout drew their attention upwards, where one of the trapped workers was clinging desperately to the trunk of a giant mimosa tree as its branches snatched at his hands and feet. "You take the right?"

"Got it."

They pushed their way through the angry vegetation, trying to force their way toward the heaving mimosa. As soon as they were past the gate, though, the leaves closed in around them.

"They can't see you," he yelled at Gunn over the rattling of branches. "They're attracted by touch."

"They can't, huh? Anyone told them that?" Gunn yanked his ankle from the grip of an ice plant and ducked as a wisteria launched itself at his face. "And I was asking about the bush. Earlier. The boogie-whatsis."

"Bougainvillea. You've never gardened?"

"Nah. Too busy planting vamps. But you?"

Wesley's answer turned into a shout as his foot slid out from under him. He scrabbled for purchase as he slid down a muddy slope into a pile of broken drywall and old plywood, thankfully free of plant life.

"Wes!"

"I think I found the house."

The remains of the old house were untouched by the marauding plant life, an oasis of calm amid the storm, and Wesley took a moment to wonder if the dendura were ignoring it out of habit or if they could possibly be _sentimental_. A few feet away, a man in mud-stained overalls lay sprawled among the debris. While Gunn picked his way more carefully down the slope, Wesley made sure the man was still breathing.

"We need to get him out of here."

"What about the other one?"

The squealing of air brakes and a loud crashing noise made them both jump.

"That's our signal."

"You sure Junior's up to this?"

Wesley wiped his muddy hand on his shirt and grabbed the unconscious man's arm. "I certainly hope so."

Between the two of them, they carried the other man unsteadily up the slope and back toward the fence. Somewhere in front of them, an odd moaning floated through the leaves, which slowed their wild waving. The closer they got to the sound, the quieter the plants became.

They rounded some rhododendrons in time to see a large, hairy, sloth-like creature slide from between two trees. It shuffled toward the back of a nursery truck, which still had bits of the construction fence stuck to its bumper. Dozens of young trees crowded the bed of the truck, their roots wrapped in dirt and canvas sacks. Sweet Pea clung to the one nearest the truck doors, crooning.

Cordelia sidled from the cab of the truck and around to where they were standing, watching silently as the rest of the flock slowly edged their way in.

"I'm disappointed." she whispered. "I was expecting them to be bigger."

Wesley considered the length of their claws and shook his head. "I have to say, I'm happier this way."

"Yes, but I told the guy at the botanical society they were huge. You think they're still gonna pay for them?"

"I hope so." Gunn matched Sweet Pea's baleful glare. "Somebody owes me a new tail pipe."


End file.
